We Lost It All
by IntoMyWonderland
Summary: The five times Blaine's father didn't accept him for who he was, and the one time he really and truly did. Rated T for pretty graphic bullying involving violence.


1. Sadie Hawkins

When Blaine woke up, he wasn't really sure where he was at first. The bright fluorescent lights, the plain white walls...they weren't familiar to him. But then he tried to sit up, and when he did, his muscles screamed in agony. And it was at that moment, that suddenly, Blaine remembered.

Sadie Hawkins dance. Aaron, his date. It had been a great night. Almost perfect. Blaine was having so much fun. The DJ was awesome, the lights were off, and nobody seemed to care that he was dancing with another boy. That, or nobody noticed. Either way, Blaine felt happier than he had in a long time. People weren't too nice after he'd come out. Most of his friends had stopped talking to him. Blaine hadn't had the courage to tell his parents. But tonight, it almost didn't matter. When he was having the time of his life dancing like he didn't care who watched him, it was easy to forget. And when they got lost in the crowd of sweating teenage bodies, Aaron took his hand. Blaine felt unstoppable.

They'd been careful. Really, really careful to not be too obvious. They didn't touch aside from the hand-holding, but even then it was extremely tentative. And when a slow song came on, they went out into the hallway, and danced. It was wrong, Blaine knew. He knew it wasn't fair that he was being forced to separate himself from the rest of world. But when he was wrapped in another boy's arms, swaying back and forth to a song he didn't really know, he found it hard to be angry. He felt at peace. Sure, the bullying was bad. He wasn't going to deny that. And sure, the slurs spray-painted on his locker, the constant shoving in the hallways, the crude notes that were thrown at him in class...yeah, sometimes those got him down. Especially when the people doing it were people he'd once considered friends. But right now, he just felt so happy. So happy to be with this boy, here, tonight, dancing with him. Because it was at that moment that Blaine knew exactly what he was fighting for, and he knew it was completely worth it.

The song ended, as they always do, and the next one was more upbeat. They parted, and silently walked back into the gym. Without words, they made their way to the dance floor, and picked up exactly where they'd left off five minutes ago. Aaron didn't hold his hand again, but it didn't matter. Blaine felt as if he was on top of the world.

At promptly ten o'clock, the lights came up, the music stopped, and the magic seemed to instantly lift from the room. Suddenly, it wasn't a wonderful place where nobody had said anything derogatory to Blaine all night. (Even if that was because no one had said anything to him at all). It was just the gym. Just the gym where Blaine had recently become the most popular target in dodgeball games. The decorations didn't look nearly as good with the lights off, Blaine noticed.

It was from there that everything seemed to go downhill. He and Aaron walked to the back of the school, since everyone else was leaving mostly out the front. And because no one was watching them, Blaine mustered up every ounce of confidence he had, and held Aaron's hand in his own. The other boy looked down at their interwoven fingers, then at Blaine, and smiled. Blaine sighed in relief and contentment, and smiled back.

They stood in back of the school like that. In complete silence, just standing there innocently holding hands. When Blaine looked up at Aaron, who was only about two inches taller than he was, and looking right back at him. Aaron leaned in, and the urge hit him. And honestly, Blaine didn't have the will, the strength, or a reason to stop himself. He got up on his tip toes, and planted a light kiss on Aaron's mouth. Aaron gasped in surprise, but didn't fight it.

Blaine's first kiss was absolutely perfect. Until it wasn't.

"Hey, fags!" A voice called from somewhere to their left. Aaron jumped away from him. Blaine wanted to scream. This night had been so perfect! Why did some homophobic asshole have to come and ruin it all? Blaine turned around to find one of his more regular tormenters-Robbie Hiller. He was a starter on the hockey team, and up until a few weeks ago when Blaine came out, they'd been in the same circle of friends.

Blaine had actually been rather popular before he'd announced his secret. He'd made the varsity soccer team as a freshman, which impressed a lot of the upperclassman, and scored him an invitation to several parties that otherwise he couldn't have even dreamed of going to. Sure, the drinking and the couples making out on every available surface made him slightly uncomfortable, but he was accepted, and he wasn't going to give that up.

It wasn't until Blaine told his best friend since elementary school, Adrian, that he was gay that things started to spiral downhill. Blaine had made a plan with Adrian that they'd make the freshman soccer team together and play until they were captains senior year. However, when Blaine made varsity and Adrian didn't, it caused a major rift in their friendship. Blaine started hanging out with the cool kids, started going to parties...Adrian got jealous. So Blaine told him his biggest secret to convince Adrian that they were still best friends. What Blaine hadn't anticipated was that Adrian would make sure that everyone in the school knew about him. And when people started asking questions, Blaine just answered truthfully. Who was he to deny something that he'd known about himself for years now? People would find out eventually, so why not now? Blaine had been naïve to assume that people would still like him.

"Come on, Hiller, lay off," Blaine said diplomatically, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

"You don't get a say here, _homo_," Hiller called, walking towards him. Blaine felt his muscles tense. His heart raced in his chest, and not the way it had earlier when Aaron's lips had been on his. A few more guys Blaine recognized from a couple parties followed Hiller. It wasn't just the words he was saying that stung. It was the fact that less than month ago, Robbie had been really friendly to him, and now he was acting like Blaine wasn't even human.

"Fine. Just leave us alone." He put absolutely zero inflection in his voice.

It started with a punch to the face. Blaine heard a snap, and when he touched his lip, there was blood. Lots of blood. His nose was probably broken. But it wasn't stopping. They were attacking him from all sides. It wasn't really fair, seeing as there was one of him and probably six of them. Not to mention the fact that Blaine was probably half their size in height, weight, and musculature.

He heard a scream that was not his own, and remembered that Aaron was there too, and they were probably beating him up as well. It was all Blaine's fault. He'd initiated the kiss. Had he just stood there and made conversation like a normal person, this wouldn't be happening.

It was relentless. It felt as though it was hours that they were kicking him, stomping on him, making him bleed. Grant was just feet away, enduring the same thing. Blaine felt twice as awful knowing that this didn't have to happen.

He stopped fighting, hoping that they'd get bored of his submission and move on. But it seemed to only excite them more – the fact that Blaine just didn't care. He just wanted it to be over.

Eventually, it stopped. They ran away, seemingly all at once. There was a voice. Another voice, but Blaine couldn't understand it. It was simply a buzzing in his ear. He prayed it was an adult...Aaron's father...anyone who might help him.

He had no doubt in his mind that he had at least one broken bone besides his face, but everything hurt too much to really check. Blaine laid there on his back, looking at the stars, not really knowing when or where he was.

The voice came closer, in his ear now. He didn't catch everything it said, but the words "help" and "coming" were clear. Blaine wanted to sigh in relief, but his lungs were so dissatisfied with the air that they were sucking in, that he couldn't find enough breath to do so.

Help is coming.

He let the bright stars above him blur together, and everything was white before it went black.

–

"Oh, Blaine, darling!" Tears fill his mother's eyes the moment she lays eyes on him. He hasn't actually looked in a mirror since he left the house hours ago, but he is quite certain it isn't pretty. She rushes over to him, kneeling beside his bed, taking his hand. He flinches at the touch.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "Broken wrist." His mother nods. It's silent for a moment, but his mother continues.

"Why didn't you tell us it was getting so bad?" she asks, and Blaine panics for a moment, wondering what exactly she was referring to. As if reading his mind, she explains further. "Why didn't you tell us people were being so mean?"

"I didn't want to worry you," Blaine murmurs, and it's only half a lie.

"Oh, Blainey-Boo," she sighs, she stands up, and kisses him on the forehead. He winces at the nickname. "I never...this shouldn't have happened to you."

"Wait. You...do you...you know...?"

"We know everything. Grant told his father, who told us." His mother gives him a look, and he knows that when she said everything, she meant _everything_. He'd imagined a million scenarios for his parents finding out about his sexuality, but a hospital visit after a beating was never one of them. Blaine nods calmly, but on the inside he's panicking.

"We'll talk later," his father interrupts sharply, speaking for the first and last time since he'd entered the room. He gives Blaine a once-over before he exits. Blaine watches him go, and knows that life had just gotten exponentially more complicated than it had been the day before.

"We love you, Blaine. No matter who you are. It's just...this is a lot for your father to deal with. He just doesn't understand yet," his mother tells him. Blaine nods.

"Thanks, Mom," he whispers. "I'd hug you if I could." Her smile is tearful, but she's smiling, and that's really all Blaine can ask for at this point.

"It looks like you're going to have to stay the night here, Baby. They want to run some scans to make sure you don't have any serious brain damage." Blaine nods, and he suddenly feels really, really, tired. Must be the meds the nurse gave him.

"How is Aaron?" he asks, words slurring together.

"He's good," his mother responds. "Well, better in better shape than you are. He's got a broken arm, but he's going home tonight. He's talking to the police right now."

"Police!" Blaine asks, eyes widening. His mother nods as if she'd been expecting that exact response.

"Sweetie, they just need a statement from you so they can arrest the boys that hurt you, okay? They'll do it tomorrow, when you're discharged. Just make sure you tell the truth so your story aligns with Aaron's, so this can be over as soon as possible." Blaine just nods. He's too drowsy from the pain medication the nurse gave him to do anything else.

"Go to sleep, honey. When you wake up, this mess will be done, okay?" Blaine doesn't even bother nodding. He just lets his eyes flutter closed, and drifts off to sleep.

–

When he wakes up, Aaron and his mother are in the room, and they're talking.

"Mom?" Blaine asks, sitting up. He goes to rub his eyes, and hits his black eye with his cast. It throbs like it hadn't since the night before.

"Careful, Sweetheart," his mother warns as she approaches. "Good morning." Blaine smirks, but doesn't respond. His mother's wearing a sweat suit, different from the business uniform she had on last night. She'd gone home. Blaine was relieved. She didn't want her to neglect her life.

"Aaron came by, but you were still sleeping. He insisted on staying until you woke up." Blaine looks over at Aaron, whose mouth twitches up into a half-smile before dropping again.

"Can...can we talk alone?" Blaine asks. His mom looks between the boys, and nods.

"I'll pick you up some lunch. Anything in particular you want?" Blaine shakes his head. "Anything for you, Aaron?"

"No thank you, ma'am."

"Call me Holly," she tells him, and he smiles. She leaves with a quick goodbye, and suddenly the room is very quiet.

"So..." Blaine says.

"Hi," Aaron chokes.

"Hey," Blaine chuckles.

"Blaine, I'm so s-"

"Don't be sorry."

"This is all-"

"Not your fault," Blaine interrupts him. Aaron just stares at him for a moment with a look that might be confusion, until he sighs. Sitting on the edge of Blaine's bed, taking his free hand into his own. It was oddly comforting, despite the events of the previous night. Neither boy spoke, just sat there in the silence.

"Did your parents know...about you?" Blaine finally asks, glancing up at Aaron, who nods his head.

"Yeah, I uh...I told them a week ago. When you asked me to go to the dance with you," he answered.

"How'd that go?" Blaine asks.

"Fine. I'm lucky. They were both really cool about the whole thing. They were just scared something might happen to me-"

"Something like this?" Blaine wonders aloud. Aaron just nods.

"You?" Aaron inquires. "Did your parents know?"

"No," Blaine says bleakly. "And my mom seems to not care. That, or she's pretending that it's not true. My dad is going to be harder to convince."

"I'm sorry," Aaron says, his hand squeezing a little tighter around Blaine's. Blaine looks at them with a smile in his eyes.

"Not your fault," Blaine says again. They laugh, though they're not really sure what for. Maybe it was just because they needed it. They need a reason to smile, and they decided that maybe, this could be it.

"Are you going back to school on Monday?" Aaron asks, suddenly sounding nervous. Blaine shrugs.

"Dunno. Depends on what the doctor says, I guess. Why? Are you?" Aaron nods, though he doesn't meet Blaine's eyes.

"My parents are making me. I don't want to, though. I mean, everyone's bound to know what happened by then, and..."

"You'll be okay," Blaine reassured him. "You're a trooper."

"I'll have less friends than I already did."

"You have me," Blaine tells him with a smile.

"Is that all we are? Friends?" Aaron asks, only looking at Blaine through the corner of his eye. Blaine sighs, because he honestly doesn't know the answer.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I don't know if it's safe." Normally, Blaine really didn't care what people thought of him. If they didn't like him because he was gay, well, that was their problem. But the fact of the matter was, not caring had put them both in the hospital. And Blaine wasn't sure he was willing to risk it again.

"I really like you, Blaine," Aaron tells him, his voice raising in pitch with a nervous tremble. Blaine tenses. He definitely has feelings for Aaron, but he hadn't realized the magnitude of their situation.

"I'm going to ask my parents to transfer schools," Blaine tells him, the words rushing out of his mouth before he can think to stop them. He hasn't actually had a moment to think about it, but the idea seems like a good one. "There's this private school in Westerville called Dalton Academy for Boys. I was researching when things started getting really bad. It's an all-boys prep school, and they have an absolute zero-tolerance no bullying policy. It's enforced. My grandparents left me enough money when they died that if my parents aren't willing to pay for tuition, I can do it myself, I just..." Blaine trails off, the idea becoming more concrete in his mind every second. "I can't stay there, Aaron. I hope you understand. I just...I don't feel safe. I need to start over. Without the lying this time." Aaron nods, although he doesn't look very happy about it.

"Okay," he mumbles. "If that's what you need to do, I guess there's nothing I can say."

"I'm not...I really like you too, Aaron, it's just..."

"I get it," Aaron smiles weakly. "Bye, Blaine."

Blaine has a feeling that this is the last time he's ever going to see Aaron again, so he calls out one final thing.

"Good luck!" Aaron stops in his tracks, looks back at Blaine with glassy, tear-filled eyes, and nods.

"You too," he chokes out, and leaves the room.

Blaine suddenly feels really empty. But he's not sorry. Aaron will be okay. He's strong. Stronger than he knows. And with time, things will get better for him. That's what they always say, right? "It gets better"?

Blaine stops thinking about it. It hurts too much, because he knows he just pushed away the last person who had truly understood.

–

"Welcome home, Sweetheart," Blaine's mom says as they drive up to the Anderson household, a three-story home that's far too big for a family of three. But when you have money to throw around, apparently you should. At least, that's the mentality of the Anderson legacy.

Blaine doesn't respond, simply waits for his mother to get the wheelchair out of the trunk so that she can help him maneuver himself into it. It's awkward, because she's touching him in ways that Blaine is entirely uncomfortable with. He's still a teenager, and she's still his mom. Still, Blaine doesn't fight it, knowing that it makes it harder when he refuses her help.

Never has Blaine been so thankful that his house doesn't have steps leading up to it. His mother can wheel him right into the house without the hassle of Blaine having to hobble his way up stairs, or something equally impossible.

"Richard?" Blaine's mom calls to his father. "We're home!" Some noise that could only be described as a grunt comes from the kitchen, and Blaine pretends not to hear his mother's sigh. She hesitates before wheeling him into the kitchen. His father sits at the breakfast table, casually reading a newspaper and sipping from a fancy ceramic mug. His mother goes to kiss him on the cheek, and he looks at her with a vacant expression. It's only then that she notices his attire.

"You're...going to work?" she asks. "But honey, Blaine just..."

"Arthur, my assistant, called. Some important meeting they need me for," Mr. Anderson tells her, not so much as sparing a glance at his son. "I can't get out of it. Speaking of which, I really should be going." He grabs his coffee, drops the newspaper, and leaves the room. No one says it, but it's clear. The meeting wasn't as important as he wanted it to be. Maybe there was no meeting at all.

"I'm making a special homecoming dinner for Blaine tonight!" The front door slams before she can finish. "Don't be late."

When she turns to look at her son, she's full of fake smiles. Blaine just shakes his head, and if he were able to move by himself, he would have locked himself in his room ages ago.

"I'm sorry, Darling," she says, not meeting his eyes. "Your father..." she trails off, and Blaine knows there's no explanation to be had.

"Just know that I love you very much, Blaine. And whatever life you choose for yourself, I will be very supportive of it, okay?" Blaine nods, but the singular pronouns don't go so far over his head.

"Mom, I...I'm kinda tired. Do you think I can go to my room...lay down for a bit?"

"Sure, Darling," she replies, and starts rolling him out of the room, before they both realize that Blaine's bedroom is on the third floor.

"The guest room works too," Blaine says, though it's half-hearted and nonfeeling.

"Should've had that elevator installed when Nana was living with us, huh?" she asks, and Blaine forces a laugh for her, because he knows that she's trying so hard to act like everything's normal. And she's doing it all for him.

She helps him into bed, tucking him in, and getting him situated. She kisses him on the forehead.

"I love you," she tells him, and Blaine doesn't know why, but the familiar words he must have heard a million times coming out of her mouth feel so good as they wash over him. Maybe it's just the reassurance that somebody, somewhere really does care.

"Thanks, Mom," he responds, doing his best not to cry. "For everything." She nods, and reminds him to just shout if he needs anything. He agrees. And it's only when they're sure that they other is out of hearing distance that they both let out a heaving sob.

–

Dinner is usually a lively affair at the Anderson household, despite their lack of numbers. Full of stories, and laughter, and jokes. Tonight, however, it is quite the opposite. No one dares speak, for fear of what will be said. It's a tense and awkward silence, and Blaine wants nothing more than to just scream at the top of lungs. Even if he did, he's still not quite sure his father would hear him.

"Can we just talk about the elephant in the room?" he finally asks, and moments go by without a single effort for the conversation to continue.

"The chicken is great, Holly," his father tells his mom, who smiles half-heartedly before looking down at her plate.

"Dad," Blaine says, addressing his father for the first time since he'd been discharged from the hospital. His father looks up at him, and Blaine is almost startled by how similar he really does look to his dad. He feels as if he's looking into his own eyes. "I'm gay." The words sound more confident than they feel, but despite his growing trepidations, Blaine doesn't dare break eye contact. His father's eyes darken in a way that Blaine has never seen before, and for a moment, he's almost afraid of his own father.

"I'm _painfully_ aware, Blaine," his father tells him, enunciating each syllable as if he's talking to a five-year-old. Blaine jolts, almost as if someone has injected ice water into his veins. He freezes. And then it's just burning, raging heat. He wires his mouth shut, not wanting to make the situation worse.

The two don't break eye contact. It's nothing more than a battle of wills. Blaine loses. He looks down at his plate, squeezing his eyes shut, refusing to let the tears escape. He couldn't let his father see him cry. Not now.

"I think I'll finish in my office," his father says.

"Richard-" his mother starts.

"Goodnight, Holly."

Blaine doesn't let himself hope for any semblance of recognition.

–

The floor vent in Blaine's room is directly connected to his father's office. Blaine isn't sure his parents are aware of this. Still, the vent has acted as a loss of innocence since Blaine can remember. It's how he lost his belief in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus. It's how he found out their golden retriever, Max, hadn't run away, but had been put to sleep. And tonight, it's how he knows exactly how his father feels about him.

"He's confused, Holly," his father says.

"No he's not."

"You knew?"

"I suspected, but I didn't assume."

"So you knew."

"Stop this, Richard. He's your son."

"Yes, my fag of a son."

"He's the same boy he was before he went to that dance."

"Yes. And now I know the truth. If people find out about this...do you know what they'll say about me? About us?" His mother doesn't respond. "I am one of the most successful lawyers in all of Ohio. I can't risk losing respect from anyone."

"He wants to transfer schools," his mother says, completely changing the topic. "A boarding school. In Westerville. Dalton Academy. Very upstanding. Very exclusive. Dalton accepts only the best. I'm sure it'll clean up your reputation perfectly."

Blaine smiles at the lethal tone in his mother's voice.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. And I'm sure if the admissions board doesn't want to accept him, you have enough to donate a new library or cafeteria. I'm sure that'll change their minds. I wouldn't worry, though. Blaine's always been a fantastic student. You should be very proud of him. Oh," she says sarcastically. "Wait. He's gay."

Blaine laughs quietly to himself. Never has he loved his mother than he does in this moment.

"I've already contacted the school and sent over his transcripts. They'll let me know if he's accepted in the next few days. But no matter what happens, we are going to give him unrelenting support and love. Because that kid would do anything to make you proud."

Blaine hears his mother's heels click on the hardwood floors of his father's office, then in the hall as she climbs the stairs to head up to bed. Blaine smiles, but it doesn't last.

This is far from over.

–

**Author's Note:**

**So, here it is. Part one of my first fanfiction ever posted under a username. I have some stuff posted anonymously on livejournal that I might transfer here, but we'll see. **

**Blaine's relationship with his father has always intrigued me. And this is my exploration (more like my indulgence of my head-canon) of the possible storylines that RIB could possibly (or not) use for this aspect of the character's life. **

**Please let me know what you thought. I'm wildly interested by very nervous as well. Be nice. I'm a rookie on this playing field! Thanks guys! :)**


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